Pretty Perfect Toy - Angel Payne Page 0,55
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My breath speeds up, slicing in and out, as he slides his mouth up, to the inside of my elbow. Still I manage to chide, “Mr. Court, I think you are trying to distract me.”
He works his way up to my shoulder. Suckles the curve of my skin. Fires up every nerve in my body. “From what?”
I frantically lick my lips. “I—I have a job to do…”
“So do I.” His voice is more fire, descending to the upper swell of my breast. “Yet here I am,”—the blaze spreads, as he explores beneath the cup with the tip of his tongue—“agreeing to answer any question you want to ask.” He glances up, just once, before pushing back the lace-trimmed fabric. “And consider anything else you’d like to…present.”
A long, high sigh swirls up my throat. Rasps out as he closes his Da Vinci lips over my aching nipple, swiftly turning it into a stiff red erection. “Cassian.”
“Hmmm?” Damn him. Still smooth and cool as marble.
“This—this is not—”
“The hottest sight I’ve ever seen?” He pushes aside the cup over my other breast. “The most magnificent pair of breasts in this whole city, pushed up and waiting for me to pleasure them?” He flashes a savoring grin, before securing his teeth over that dusky nipple. “I beg to differ, armeau.”
A miracle, this strength I suddenly gain to press my lips into a chastising line. “We must prepare for tomorrow!”
He soothes the burn from his bite with a lavish lick. My opposite breast gets more attention from the fingers extending out of his bandage, twisting my hard peak to bring just the perfect pinch of pain. “Prepare away, sorceress. Don’t let me stop you.”
“Wéchant brutan.”
“Now you really can’t let me stop you.” He growls it into the valley between my throbbing swells. I let out a tight huff. Dammit. This man and his penchant for my language. I cannot even cap it with an insult, because he likes those more.
“It means you really are a wicked beast.”
“Not sure Chantal’s team will uncover that one.”
“Perhaps it shall be my little gift to her cause.”
“And perhaps I’ll spill my own secrets during the interview.” He skates his touch back down by way of my ribs, riding the line between tickling and arousing, until bracing the small of my back with his bandaged hand while sliding beneath my panties with his other. “Like how I fantasized about touching you like this, damn near from the moment we met.”
Another gasp. Everything under his fingers pulses. Flutters. Zings with a thousand points of feeling and life. “You—you would not dare.” Because then the cameras would show everything on my face too. That I longed for the same thing that very night…
“Oh yeah?” He strokes in, past the flesh that shields my most tender button, flaring my desire in all the right places. He knows me… “Try me.” Rolls his thumb, stirring my lust, spinning my mind. “Dear Christ Ella, please try me. Make me declare to the world how I dreamed of what your body would feel like, smell like, taste like. How I went back to my suite in the Palais after that reception and didn’t leave the shower for nearly an hour. Then the next morning, too…and that night. I thought of you, over and over again, making myself come with thoughts of touching you…fucking you. Those next two days were sheer hell, wondering if I’d see you again—and dreading it. Knowing that the second I did, those fantasies would return, twice as hot as before. That I’d be rock hard for you all over again.” With a gritted sound, he pulls his fingers away. Shoves the panel of my panties aside, so his bare flesh can rub into my slit instead. “Just like this. Exactly like this.”
“Cassian.” I shake and throb, mashing myself tighter against him. I am a ball of need, desperate for the purchase of all his rock-hard sinew and relentless force, thinking how correct he is about his first assertion. Caveman, not warrior. Chivalry and heraldry be damned. I need his possession, his hunger…his primeval lust—and all the things it draws out in me as response. Wild things. Hot things. All the aching, animal needs of the woman who imagines we are on a bed of pelts in some Paleolithic cave, the storm drenching a dirt jungle outside instead of an urban one.
“You wanted me too,” he growls. “Didn’t you?” He rolls his hips, making me feel every angle of his length…taunting my shivering